


Crossed Wires

by cheshirecatstrut



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecatstrut/pseuds/cheshirecatstrut
Summary: Logan's tired of being a disappointment, and he's summoned the nerve to end things with Veronica. A chance phone call derails his plan. After which, Veronica comes up with a plan of her own.Originally posted at VMHQ as a birthday gift for the extremely wonderful anilcadz91.





	Crossed Wires

When Logan emerges from the Anthropology building holding Dick in a laughing headlock, only to lose his smile upon spotting Veronica? She knows right away something’s wrong. Even at his most sophomore-year-hateful he flirted and posed, mirth, lust and anger twining in his dark, compelling eyes.

She plays the odd moment off with panache, if she does say so herself, joining forces with him to mock Dick; but his disinterest in banter makes her stomach squirm. Logan’s fascination with V has always been so consuming, she’s never once considered it might wane.

But she’s Veronica Mars and she doesn’t back down—so after Dick gets a clue and wanders off to harass Lilith House, she takes the bull by the horns. “You weren’t outside my criminology class,” she accuses, going for playful. Tugs him closer by his overlarge button-down. “I waited.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, lackluster, and turns his face away.

The sick feeling in her stomach becomes an uncomfortable knot…he’s not playing along with her attempt to charm. “Is something wrong?” she asks, because how can she not?

He transfers his focus to his shoe. Studies it intently for a moment before glancing up from under his brow to meet her eye. “I can’t…” he begins, hesitant, in a defeated tone; then stops, exasperated, when her phone rings.

Holding up a ‘wait one second’ finger, V frowns at the display, thankful for a reprieve. “It’s my dad,” she says, trying to make ‘relieved’ sound ‘apologetic’. “Hang on to that thought for just one sec.”

Logan spins in an exasperated circle but nods, and she turns her back, moves a few steps away. “What’s up?” she chirps into the receiver, sounding way more chipper than she feels.

“Veronica, are you anywhere near Dean O’Dell’s office?” Dad’s clearly harassed, and also hard to hear over the traffic noise in the background.

“I could be,” she says. “Are you standing on the side of the highway?”

Dad sighs. “More or less. Look, he’s not answering my calls. Can you swing by and ask if he’ll meet at two instead of noon? Some fan of our work slashed my tires while I was running down a clue, and I need to get a tow and have them replaced.”

“Nobody appreciates genius anymore.” She checks her watch. “I’ll do it now, and then send you this mysterious type of confirmation message called a “text’.”

Dad fake-laughs and hangs up, and Veronica spins to find Logan watching impatiently, hands on hips. “Sorry, can’t talk after all, emergency,” she says, running the words together and holding up the phone in explanation. Walks quickly backwards, because she does NOT want to hear whatever he plans to say. “Dinner later? Student union, burgers, you, me, seven PM?”

“Veronica…” he begins, running agitated hands through his hair, but she just cuts him off with an, “Excellent! I’ll pencil you in!” and scurries away, heart pounding.

At least he doesn’t try to stop her, which is great, she decides. Because whatever was about to happen seemed big, yet she’s got no idea what his DEAL is. The last time they had anything like a fight, she told him she loved him and promised they were OK. What more does he WANT? Does he think those kind of words come easy to her? Surely he gets her instinctive need to flee any interaction that resembles ‘fraught’?

Logan should be cosseting her fears, after last week’s massive display of vulnerability. Not sulking like she stuffed his childhood teddy bear in the blender and hit ‘puree’.

Normally, Veronica can admit, she takes Logan’s loyalty for granted, no matter how insecure about her sex appeal she sometimes feels. She’s always assumed as long as her fidelity matches his, she’s the one who’d have to walk away. The idea that there IS a line, and she’s got no idea how she crossed it…well, she’s supposed to meet Wallace and Mac for lunch. And she’s clueless at the moment as to how she’ll choke down food.

She hikes across campus and finds the Dean at his desk, fiddling with a lukewarm pizza like he has no appetite either. Maybe dissatisfaction’s in the air today, like a virus. She passes Dad’s message, and he just says, “Sure, why not? It’s not like I have any social life or plans.”

This is clearly an invitation to probe further, but Veronica’s got her own problems. So she just says, “Thanks, I’ll let him know!” and heads over to the food court, where she greets her friends with decently-faked good cheer. But she’s so fidgety and indecisive in line, even Mac notices. “Veronica,” she says, after womaning up and ordering the fettucine. ‘Either you’ve got a bee in your shoe, or you’re upset and trying to hide it. What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, curse you and your new intimidating social skills.” Veronica tries a playful foot stomp, then abandons pretense with a sigh. “I’m fine, really. It’s just that Logan’s brooding is off the charts today, and I have no idea why.”

Mac looks at Wallace, brows raised. “But…isn’t Logan always brooding? I thought that was his trademark.”

“Nah, this is different.” Wallace, accepts a double helping of pudding and licks a spill off his thumb. “He was doing the thing in sociology yesterday where he hides his hands in his sleeves, and twirls a pencil instead of listening. He only acted like that in high school when he was planning to ditch for a month or get arrested.”

Veronica and Mac both stare, because how perceptive, and Wallace rolls his eyes. “What? I notice things. I’m told that’s a GOOD quality in a guy whose best friends are girls.”

Veronica opens her mouth to probe further, but at this inopportune moment Piz appears, bubbling over with oblivious excitement. “Hey gang, what’s the word? Is it avuncular?”

“No?” he continues, cutting across Mac’s attempt to reply with a chortle at his own joke. “Just a shot in the dark. Hey, set your dials to KRUFF tonight. I mean, we’re already moving on as to what to do with the whole Greek Row ghost town next summer. I’ve got this one guy coming on the show—wants to turn it into an ROTC training—“

“Jesus Piz, do you EVER stop talking?” Veronica snaps, temper combusting. “Seriously, how do you manage to interview people when you can’t shut up long enough to listen to answers?”

Tossing her tray down she storms away, ignoring the concerned stares that follow her. And okay, maybe she overreacted a tad—Piz is harmless, just super-nerdily enthusiastic about radio and his own opinions. But she’s been unenthused for a while, frankly, about having to share Wallace with Chatty Cathy. Especially at moments like this, when Wallace has data about CRITICAL ISSUES, but she can’t get a word in edgewise.

She’s almost out of the food court when she passes Dick, engrossed in ominously-excited conversation with Charleston Chu; the phrases ‘big-ass tires’, ‘drive right onto the quad’ and ‘group moon’ are mentioned, all of which inspire terror. So she has no qualms about interrupting with, “Dick, I’ll give you a cookie if you quit plotting to get expelled for five minutes, and answer some questions. And by cookie, I mean I won’t turn you in to the Dean.”

Dick heaves an over-exaggerated sigh but gestures to a table, shooing Charleston away. “This isn’t you hitting on me, right? Because Logan may have finally located his balls and taken away your whip, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be the next gimp in line.”

“Dick,” she says, sitting, and watches him follow suit, “and I mean this sincerely. The idea of smacking you down deeply appeals, but NEVER in that context.”

“So what do you want, then?” He takes a long swallow from the tall-boy he’s holding, in defiance of the Union’s no-booze rule. “Connor Larkin’s phone number?”

_I already HAVE a boyfriend_ , Veronica would like to say,  _and I’ve got no interest in another._  But clearly Dick thinks she DOESN’T have Logan, which means he believes a dumping was planned. Ergo, the squirmy feeling in her gut’s on point, as usual, and now she needs to turn Dick upside down and shake him for DETAILS. “I just need to know why Logan’s mad,” she says. “That’s all. Just what exactly, WAS the final straw? Because we’ve been getting along fine, as far as I know, and I don’t understand his issue.”

“Here’s a hint: you’re psycho.” Dick shrugs. “It’s not like we paint each others’ nails and gossip in our free time, Ron-Rons. All I remember is, he rushed home from dinner a week ago and sat staring at his phone for half an hour. And ever since, when your name comes up he changes the subject. Which, no offense, but I’ve been praying for this day since you two started dating. So excuse me while I celebrate with a twelve-pack, then show those angry feminists how the Pi Sigs get things DONE.”

Veronica scowls as he leaves and pulls out her cell, a suspicion beginning to coalesce. Pages through her call list and determines that yes, the last time Logan reached out was six days ago, at dinner time. Which is about five-and-a-half days longer than he usually goes without calling. But she failed to notice, what with the rape case, and three tests this week, and the coffee-stained stacks of unfiled cases that spilled all over Dad’s office…

Casting her mind back, she counts. Six days ago, she went to the Lilith House and confronted Nish, then learned about Patrice Pitrelli. She remembers being upset for hours, after, because those women cast HER as the villain, when THEY were faking rapes to sabotage a frat (not to mention assaulting frat members). She remembers buying comfort food, because nothing helps a girl shake off gender-traitor accusations better than pasta. And she remembers eating at a table by herself, because she just didn’t have it in her to deal with humanity. She got several calls that night, while wolfing down spaghetti and…

Sent them straight to voice mail.

Her jaw clenches then, because she knows what happened, and it’s just so LOGAN. Of course he’d call her from the food court while he was also in the food court, and say, “Want to see a magic trick? Bet I can guess where you are.” And of COURSE if he watched her hit ignore, his pride would be hurt. He might even assume she didn’t love him, because Logan Echolls, under all the snark and smarm, is a surprisingly delicate flower.

Jesus, he needs to get a grip. But as she pages through the list of ‘recents’ she has to admit…she’s been ignoring his calls a LOT.

Shit. Veronica lets her head fall back, stares at the sandwich somehow glued with old mayonnaise to the industrial-tile ceiling. The only thing she hates more than admitting she’s wrong is apologizing. But if she wants to keep her boyfriend, which she has to confess she does, even if said boyfriend is a DUMBASS…is there a way she could convince him, maybe, without having to do both?

XXXXX

When Veronica makes it back to the food court that night, Logan’s waiting at their ‘special’ table (which she knows, even though he’s never said so, is his do-over for banning her from his high school lunch group). He’s already purchased burgers and bottled sodas, plus the extra serving of fries she likes, and even managed to locate a bottle of ketchup. But instead of eating, he’s twiddling his straw with barely-contained angst, and Full Emo staring at the wall. She’s come up with a plan in the nick of time.

Plunking her bag down by a chair, she says cheerily, “Wow, if THIS doesn’t hit the spot after a hard day at the office!” and sits.

He half-smiles, trying not to succumb to her charm. “I figured you’d be hungry.” Looks sideways, takes a deep breath, then leans earnestly towards her. “But listen, before we eat. Veronica…”

She holds up a hand. “Logan, I know there’s something you want to tell me. And you can, I promise. But first, I have something I need to tell you.”

He nods, slumping back, and she says, “I recognize things have been difficult between us lately—for me, because this rape case is stressful, and…not bringing back the best memories. I’m guessing you feel the same. And even though we talked about you reforming and me acting unnaturally, which I swear, I’m trying to do? Angst makes my patience with people…more limited. I’m pretty sure, in light of the fight we had last week, I’m not holding up my end of the bargain. So I’ve decided to take steps.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he lifts his brows, uncharacteristically non-verbal. She forges ahead, though, because this feels like her last, best chance. “One of the ways you’ve been more open this semester is by giving me your room key. And I loved that gesture, but I can’t reciprocate, because you know my dad would blow a gasket if I gave you a key to our apartment. So I thought about what I might do instead that would be in the same spirit and…I need you to call me.”

“Call you?” His brows inch higher. “From across the table?”

“Yes,” she says. “Pull out your phone and call me right now. It’ll make sense in a minute, I promise.”

He sighs elaborately but does as she asks, thumbing open his phone and reluctantly pressing what she knows for a fact is speed dial number one. Removing her own cell from her pocket, she displays it with a Vanna White wave. Sets it on the table as the introductory trumpets of ‘Ain’t No Other Man’ by Xtina begin to play. Logan barks out a laugh, like he can’t help himself, and she makes a production of pretend shock before picking it up. Adopting a sultry expression, she coos, “Hello?”

Fighting a slow-growing smile, he says, “Who is this? Because I thought I was calling Veronica ‘all work, no play and DEFINITELY no cramping my style’ Mars.”

“She’s not here right now.” Veronica crosses her legs, doing her best hardboiled sexpot. “The only Veronica at THIS number is the one who gave her boyfriend a special ringtone. So even when she’s had it up to HERE with humanity, and would rather cut off her ears than make conversation, she’ll know it’s too important a call to miss.”

His gaze softens as understanding dawns. He unfolds one arm from his self-protective stance to pick up the straw, and taps it, musing, on the tabletop. “You mean there are two of you at large on the Hearst campus? Jesus, Dick will never sleep again.”

She snorts her contempt and indifference, breaking character, and his smile fractionally widens. So she forges determinedly ahead. “Since it’s you, I have a few minutes to talk, before I bolt my dinner and pull an all-nighter for a midterm. So why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind? Let me relieve you of all your troubles and cares. I promise not to lecture or judge, much.”

“Well that’s new. Hmmm…I guess I just want to say…” he pauses, the asshole, to consider—not even potentially-relationship-ending-conflict can dent Logan Echolls’ instinct towards drama. V clenches her jaw so hard it hurts, but manages to hold the smiling pose. “That this fake voice is doing it for me in ways I’ve never previously considered possible. And my ringtone’s pretty bangin’…although those trumpets will startle the shit out of anyone within a ten-foot radius.”

“Maybe I should have chosen ‘Hips Don’t Lie’?” she murmurs, as relief floods through her. His smile breaks through finally, FINALLY, like the sun emerging from a cloud.

“For us, that seems appropriate,” he says, and hangs up his phone. She slides hers shut too, and they stare at each other across the table.

She thinks he’ll want to discuss this almost-miss they just had, because Logan never shirks the tough subjects. But, “So where are you planning to study?” is all he asks, picking up his burger and sinking in teeth. Like he suddenly has his appetite back. Like all the tension and distance she’s fretted about today just vanished into the mist. “Because Dick’s been up to no good, planning something doubtless-embarrassing with the Pi Sigs, so my place is quiet. And, you know, you have a key.”

“As a matter of fact, I DO.” She unwraps her own burger, the knot in her stomach finally unraveling. “But I have to warn you—cramming for tests kicks my stress level up to eleven. Any idea how I might relax, once I’m done, so I can walk into that exam room tomorrow with a clear head?”

“I’ll give it some thought.” He pauses to sip his Coke. “Considering how stressed you GET, though, my plan will need to be exhaustive. So we should start as soon as you have time.”

She grins, chewing, as his feet surround hers under the table. Reflects that Dick will have to wait in vain for his months-long wish to come true. And Piz can find another sucker to listen to his ninety-percent-Piz radio show. Because she’ll be…otherwise occupied.

As for Wallace, he deserves a batch of snickerdoodles, soon-ish; his gossipy ways just saved her ass, and should be encouraged with sugar. But right now, Veronica decides, she needs to concentrate on the care and maintenance of what’s hers. So she twines her fingers through Logan’s while he talks, and debates which stress-relieving techniques to employ.


End file.
